He sighs as if he knew it all along, but had to try anyway. I have to admire him for that—knowing what he wants and going for it. There’s a lot about Frank to like.

“You know Lydia wants a job at the garage,” he says.

I groan, because I know exactly the direction this conversation is going. Now that I’m out of the picture and Frank is single, my mom is trying to get Lydia to fill the Rosey-shaped gap in Frank’s life.

“I told her no, but she’s quite persistent.”

“It’s not Lydia’s fault,” I say. “I’m so sorry, Frank, but I’m sure it’s my mom’s idea. If I were you, I wouldn’t give her a job.”

“She keeps finding reasons to drop by. Suggests grabbing a coffee, talks about the latest movie release she wants to go and see.”

I smile, but it’s full of pity. He knows what’s going on. He doesn’t need me to tell him.

Frank nods at my silence. “Yeah, I know. I need to move on. Your mom… she calls me every now and then, just when I’m about to walk away—from you or Lydia.”

My heart clenches. I know exactly what he’s saying. “I think she steps in when things aren’t going her way. Most of the time she can use one of us to do whatever she wants. And then I guess she steps in when she needs to.”

He swallows, and I stare over his shoulder at Robert Pattinson, trying to push down the nausea as I realize the full extent of my mother’s horrible behavior.

“Barney at the garage says she’s a manipulator,” Frank says. “I talked to him a little after… you know, what happened with the wedding.” His eyes don’t meet mine. “Your mom dropped by the garage a couple of times. Shared her theories on why you ran away.”

I don’t want to ask. I know all her theories will be bullshit. “I’m sorry.” I can’t think of anything else to say.

“She said I didn’t spoil you enough. Didn’t show my love the way I should have.”

I groan. “Barney’s right. Me leaving didn’t have anything to do with you. I needed to escape my mother and her manipulation.” It’s like all the colors of the kaleidoscope have come into focus, and for the first time I see everything with perfect clarity. I’ve always known. But now that knowledge isn’t buried at the back of my brain. It’s front and center. Frank wasn’t who I was running from. It was always my mom who I needed to escape. “My mother was trying to get you to blame yourself, when she only had herself to blame.”